


Moloch von Zinzer and the Revolting Minions

by Sturzkampf



Series: The Trials of Moloch von Zinzer [4]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Anarchy, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3322712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This is the story of the day that everyone tried to kill Moloch von Zinzer</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sturzzeug and the People's Militia

Moloch von Zinzer was flying in the Heterodyne Model 46 above a battlefield, braced in the open observer's cockpit trying to read the semaphore instructions from Castle Heterodyne, operate its Special Camera, avoid falling out of the lurching machine and block out the constant stream of drivel spouted down the communication tube by the pilot sitting in the forward cockpit.

All the many marvellous devices, clanks and constructs created by Agatha Heterodyne are, of course, never less than perfect. However, if she were ever to create anything that was less than perfect then the Heterodyne Model 46 would be it. Based on the 'falling machines' (or _Sturzzeugs_ as they had become known in Mechanicsburg) originally pioneered by Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, Agatha had hypothesised that additional lift and manoeuvrability would result if the wings flapped like a bird, rather than being kept rigid by a spar that just added extra weight. This had, of course, proved to be true. Unfortunately the benefits were rather outweighed by an almost complete loss of stability, which together with an unresolved resonance problem that made the entire machine vibrate when the engine was at full power meant that the He 46 was extremely difficult to fly. To make things worse the _Sturzzeug_ had been built to carry aloft over a battle a Special Camera, whose lenses had taken five years to grind, and transmit incredibly detailed pictures of the tactical situation directly to the Heterodyne, her generals and the Castle itself.

The _Sturzzeug_ was so unpopular that even the Jägers had declined to fly it. Fortunately Jeremiah, an itinerant mercenary, had arrived at Castle Heterodyne boasting that he could fly anything and that the He 46 would not be a problem for someone with his exceptional skill. In fact, he was evaluated by the Mechanicsburg Flying Corps as ' barely competent', although after sustained badgering of the instructor he had managed to get this changed to 'in the top three quarters of piloting ability'. However as he was the only person to express any desire to pilot the He 46 he got the job. Of course no one asked von Zinzer if he wanted to fly in the He 46; it was naturally his job to operate the Special Camera and collect vital intelligence on the army camped outside the walls of Mechanicsburg.

This was not the first army that had laid siege to Mechanicsburg and it would not be the last. The difference was that this army was not commanded by the latest Spark seeking World Domination who had decided that if he could just conquer Mechanicsburg the rest of Europa would just give in and declare him ruler (not such a mad plan really – if a Spark could conquer Mechanicsburg then it was unlikely that anyone else would be able to defeat him, but I'm sure you will have spotted the fatal flaw in the logic). No, this was an army of minions, without a Spark to lead them. Dotti, the Head Minion of an obscure Spark, had decided that he no longer wanted to be the one that did all the work, took all the risks and took all the blame and, with the support of his fellow minions, had instigated a mutiny, overthrowing his master with the help of the mad science he had helped create and declaring the Castle and all its contents to be in common ownership. He had invented a new philosophy – 'Anarchism'; not a state of anarchy, but the principle that no-one should have to obey rules or the orders of a master and that no-one should be allowed to have possessions for their sole use; no laws and everything in common ownership. The enticing new philosophy had spread to neighbouring Castles as Dotti's rhetoric and force of personality had swayed more and more minions to the cause. Soon the entire area was in a revolt as Sparks found their creations turned against them by those they expected to obey orders without question. Determined to turn the new doctrine of Anarchism into a full scale revolution that would encompass all of Europa, the rebels had formed a column they called the People's Militia and had swept across Transylvania, collecting people and materials of war along the way as the minions of the Castles in their path joined the revolution. Inevitably, the column of the People's Militia had aimed at the great prize, Mechanicsburg, but here they found the gates closed against them. Baffled, they sat down in front of the walls, expecting the People to rise up at any moment, overthrow the hated Heterodyne and lay the riches and science of the great city at their feet. When, after a week the gates remained closed with the defenders watching them with detached amusement, they had started to bring up the Engines of War, clanks and constructs of twenty Sparks and lay siege to the city in earnest.

Meanwhile, von Zinzer knew that the Jägers were leaving the city by their secret burrows and preparing for a pre-emptive strike. Already they had created a front of fortifications between the city walls and the People's Militia, a buffer against any frontal attack. However, Agatha was so perturbed that the attackers seemed to be acting so slowly and inefficiently that she was starting to suspect a trick. She did not want to be fooled again as she had been by Baron Wulfenbach during the great Siege of Mechanicsburg. Hence von Zinzer was told to take the Special Camera over the People's Militia positions to see what was really going on. He squinted down the sighting tube to read the signals from the city walls, the gyroscopic clockwork working flat out against the motion of the unstable Steurzzeug to keep the signal station in view.

“Jeremiah, turn to port. They think there might be a dirigible about to launch under the cover of those stompers.” he yelled into the communication tube.

“I don't like dirigibles and I don't like the people who fly in them.” came the answer from the pilot's cockpit. The machine lurched to right.

“No port! The other port!” Moloch shouted in exasperation, resisting the urge to slap the back of Jeremiah's head. The He 46 lurched back to the left, towards the stationary war stompers parked in a line in full view of the walls. He could see why the Generals wanted a closer look. Why had People's Militia created such an obvious easy target? Was this a trap? Were they screening something more important? Was it a distraction from their real assault? He braced himself in the cockpit and started getting the camera ready to transmit, setting the aperture, zoom and focus and establishing the aetheric link to the view screens back at the war room, where Agatha and the Jäger generals waited. Seeing that the camera’s orgone accumulators were at maximum capacity he shut down the small propeller-driven generator that had been charging them, but the whining sound didn't stop.

“Yesterday I was on my way home in my mechanical walker and I got stuck behind a donkey. A donkey!” Jeremiah in the front cockpit had already complained about the traffic congestion on the streets of Mechanicsburg at least half a dozen times since they had taken off. He seemed incensed that having spent most of his considerable pay on fast clanks, everyone else on the road was travelling slower than he was. “I don't see why I should have to wait behind poor people. Does he pay fuel tax? Does he have a licence? He does not. He shouldn't be allowed on the road!”

As he removed the lens cap that protected the precious lenses and pushed the 'transmit' lever, von Zinzer spotted a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. With the reflexes of an experienced survivor, he ducked just in time to avoid a rusty claw that flashed over his head. He yelled panicked instructions to Jeremiah into the speaking tube:

“Enemy clank at four O' clock! Spiral p...left! Spiral left!”

He clutched desperately for the single Scarfe-ring-mounted machine cannon. It was little more than a toy really, but it did help the observer's morale if he could at least shoot back rather than having to sit there and be attacked. As he did so the He 46 finally ceased its lurching and proceeded to fly straight and level for the first time. Peering down his gun sight, von Zinzer watched the flying battle clank circle round and line up for another attack. Its movements seemed hesitant and jerky, the wings moving stiffly and out of synchronisation. The delay gave von Zinzer an opportunity to turn round in the cockpit and shout at his pilot:

“Evasive Action! Spiral right! Right!” To his horror he saw that Jeremiah was sitting rigid in the cockpit, his white face frozen in a rictus of fear. His hands were clasped in front of him; he appeared to be praying. It gave von Zinzer no consolation at all to realise that at least they had found the secret of making the damned _Sturzzeug_ fly properly; just stop fiddling with the controls and it would fly straight and level on its own. Unfortunately the one time von Zinzer did not want to fly straight and level was when he was under attack by a flying clank. At least it did mean he had a stable gun platform. He pulled the canon's cocking lever to load the first round into the breech and opened fire on the incoming enemy. The gun seemed to have no effect on the clank as it loomed impossibly large in his sights. Then suddenly the clank pulled up into a steep climb, stalled and went into a vertical dive. As it fell it flayed out with a large clawed hand and tore a section out of the _Sturzzeug_ 's tail. Immediately the machine resumed its pitching and yawing, tossing von Zinzer painfully against camera's aluminium mounting frame. He dragged himself to his feet and shouted into the speaking tube.

“Jeremiah! The tail is damaged! Head back to Mechanicsburg and try to....!” He stopped in mid-sentence, staring dumbfounded at the empty pilot's seat in front of him. Looking down over the side of the _Sturzzeug_ he saw his pilot's parachute far below, as Jeremiah gently floated down to earth on the Heterodyne side of the front line. Meanwhile, the increasingly unstable machine was getting further and further from Mechanicsburg and safety. Whimpering with fear, von Zinzer scrambled across into the pilot's cockpit as the nose pitched down into a terminal dive. Through the windscreen he had a marvellous view of the battlefield rushing up to meet him. Without much hope he hauled back on the control wheel; he had a vague idea that pulling it towards you made the _Sturzzeug_ go up. There were pedals and levers in the cockpit too, but at this point they were an unnecessary complication. By a miracle – possibly a miracle of science – the crippled _Sturzzeug_ levelled out at the last minute and was flying almost horizontally when it hit the ground and ploughed a long furrow of destruction through the grass of the open ground between the walls of Mechanicsburg and the hills, with a shrill scream of tortured metal and terrified unwilling pilot. The flapping wings flew apart in a spectacular shower of cogwheels and sprockets. As he had been instructed in the pre-flight safety briefing Moloch put his head between his knees and put both hands over his head. Professor Mittelmind had once told him that this didn't actually help your survival chances very much in an air crash. The main reason you were told to do it was to protect your teeth so they weren't smashed out in the impact, which meant your burned and mangled corpse could be identified from dental records.

The _Sturzzeug_ 's fuselage seemed to slide across the plain for an eternity and then suddenly everything went quiet. Very slowly, von Zinzer moved his shaking limbs and checked for pain. He'd taken a bit of a nasty knock to the knee, but fortunately to the top of his tibia, not to the knee cap. That was going to hurt like hell for five minutes and then be fine. He'd hit something solid with his ribs when he'd finally stopped, but on the right side, well away from his heart and sternum, and it didn't feel like anything had broken. Even better, he saw that even though the fuselage of the rear cockpit had been torn open the Special Camera was still in its protective cradle and looked completely undamaged. Sure that he had no serious injuries, he struggled out of the machine.

Several figures were hurrying towards him as he got groggily stepped away from the wreck. With a sinking heart he saw that they were wearing the red and black neckerchiefs of the People's Militia. Why is it that there is never a Jägermonster around when you want one? He raised his hands in surrender. The first anarchist to reach him stopped three metres away, raised his rifle and aimed it at Moloch's head.

“You are an Enemy of the People!” he cried and pulled the trigger. Von Zinzer heard the bang and felt the bullet whiz past his head. Anarchist and minion looking at each other in amazement, both of them wondering how it was possible to miss at that range. With a look of determination the anarchist walked right up to von Zinzer, placed the barrel against his forehead and, with a smile, pulled the trigger again. There was a load explosion and a startled scream. Amazed, von Zinzer realised that he was still still alive and wasn't the one doing the screaming, if only because his jaw was locked solid. In front of him the anarchist had dropped the smoking rifle and was holding his scorched hand.

“Sabotage! Betrayal!” he screamed. “My rifle has been tampered with by reactionary traitors! First it pulls to the right and now it explodes in my face!”

Moloch breathed a sigh of relief, unable to believe his luck. Then the anarchist picked up his ruined rifle and used it to club von Zinzer unconscious.

\--------------*

Von Zinzer came round slowly. A battle clank loomed over him. As he groaned and stirred its clockwork mechanism moved its head and body to track him with a grinding of gears. He winced, partly from the pain in his head and partly from the sound of the distressed clockwork, which has the same effect on any trained mechanic as nails being scraped across a blackboard. He could just imagine the fuss Agatha would make if she found a clank in Castle Heterodyne making a noise like that. Surprised that he had not been bound hand and foot, he rolled up slowly into a more comfortable sitting position, being careful not to make any sudden moves. You could never be too careful around a strange clank.

He couldn't help but cast his experienced mechanic's eye over his guard. It was clearly the work of Baron von Schweinsteiger, one of the Sparks overthrown by the minions' revolt and a man renowned for his good workmanship and elegant design. Within two minutes Moloch had identified five major problems with the clank that needed immediate attention, plus another seven things that needed investigation, not to mention the entire mechanism was clearly in need of cleaning if dirt wasn't going to work its way into the joints and cause excessive wear. Out of sheer force of habit he was about to reach for his tool belt and get to work when he remembered that he was in fact a prisoner and the clank wasn't on his side.

About half a kilometre away Moloch could see the line of war stompers he had been sent to investigate. They were still nicely grouped targets for an artillery or aerial strike and there seemed to be no activity to move them into attack positions or even to power them up. There was no dirigible or other sinister Engine being prepared behind them. As far as he could see their main purpose was to provide shade for the small makeshift camp beneath them. Many of the larger Engines of War that the People's Militia had captured from their former masters were also sitting idle and deactivated or moving stiffly and awkwardly without purpose around the field.

Meanwhile the People's Militia were lounging behind their makeshift defensive positions all around where Moloch sat guarded by the clank. They seemed completely at ease, sleeping, talking together or just laying on their backs looking up at the sky. Most of them were drinking from earthenware bottles and appeared to be half-drunk. They were all dirty and unkempt and the men were unshaven. He wondered if this was a deliberate statement of their rejection of society's conventions, or whether they just couldn't be bothered with basic hygiene. He was more puzzled by their lack of urgency. Surely they should be preparing weapons, improving their defensive positions, at least digging some sort of trenches, hell, working on the battle clank guarding him. They were camped outside Mechanicsburg for goodness sake. Did they think that Agatha was just going to sit there and not attack? These were supposed to be minions. Why weren't they getting all of their weapons up to full efficiency ready to face the coming assault or preparing for an assault themselves?

In fact their main activity was the preparation of a meal. Moloch noticed that all the work was being done by the women in the group. He thought with a wry smile what Fraulein Snaug, Saana Tryggvassen or Violetta would say about that. At least it wasn't him peeling all the damned potatoes in Venthraxus' damned kitchen in Castle Heterodyne this time. As he watched, one of the anarchists walked up to a girl cutting up an improbable number of carrots and put his hand down the front of her blouse. Moloch winced, expecting an immediate violent response, but the girl just turned her head away and pretended not to notice, a look of distress on her face. The anarchist's attentions became more pressing and finally the girl stopped what she was doing and pushed him away with a cry of disgust. Immediately the anarchist started shouting at her, calling her a repressed lackey, still bound by the corrupt and rigid conventions of morality of an outdated and repressive hegemony. Several other men nearby interrupted their drinking and walked over to join in, all standing round her and shouting abuse until the girl was crouching on the ground and sobbing. Having made their point, the men turned and walked away, one of them pausing long enough to deliver a vicious kick.

“Next thing you know, they'll be wanting the same pay as us.” Moloch overheard him saying. The other women preparing the food all looked down, concentrating on their work, avoiding making any eye contact. They all looked haggard, with dark rings beneath their eyes and many had bruises on their faces. Moloch had thought this must have been from the fighting, but now he was not so sure. The abused girl got slowly to her feet and resumed chopping up carrots, tears streaming down her face.

Around the camp were piles of rifles, small arms and other portable weaponry, carelessly discarded and unmaintained. Moloch realised that the anarchist’s failure to kill him had nothing to do with luck after all. Although the rifles had been state-of-the-art Spark-created weapons, they needed constant cleaning and maintenance for maximum efficiency, or indeed continued operation; something that was clearly not happening. With the rifles in common ownership, piled in a heap and exposed to the elements, with no individual responsible for a particular weapon, they were in a dreadful state. It was unlikely that any of them would shoot straight, or indeed fire reliably at all, and that is not a good state of affairs when the Jägerkin are forming up to attack your position. Von Zinzer thought wryly that the Jägers would be mortified if they knew they would be attacking essentially unarmed defenders. In fact, they would probably offer to service the rifles themselves just to make the battle more exciting.

Then he saw that not all the People's Militia were idle. A small figure moved around the battle clanks, opening panels, replacing parts, making repairs. It was a strange creature, clearly a construct, but completely shrouded in a long hooded cloak, from which only leather gloved hands projected. It walked crouched, almost as though it preferred to walk on all fours. The way the cloth of the cloak hung suggested a crooked, inhuman body shape, but its exact form was impossible to determine. Moloch watched the creature working, at first casually and then with increasing professional interest and could not help but be impressed by the skill, accuracy and determination with which it worked. A member of the Militia walked past it. Casually he picked up a stick and began to beat the construct, which cowered and gave sharp yelps of pain unlike anything that ever issued from a human throat.

“Abomination! Foul creature, grovel you disgusting creation!” he shouted at the cringing figure. “You are just a zombie, wasting away your life in the service of the industrial-capitalist machine! Putting your work before personal happiness is appalling! You make me sick!” Then, having delivered his diatribe, the anarchist dropped the stick and sauntered off to harass the woman laying out the plates on the trestle tables because his food wasn't ready yet. The construct slowly and painfully got to its feet and resumed its work. As it gave a fearful glance behind it to see if its assailant had really gone, its head turned in Moloch's direction and he caught a reflection from a pair of brass goggles and a row of large inhuman teeth from within the dark hood.

So far, Moloch had been completely ignored and he was just wondering if it would be possible to quietly get up and sneak back to Mechanicsburg when he became aware of two figures walking towards him with a purposeful stride. The first was quite a short man wearing an immaculate leather jacket trimmed with snow-leopard fur and a Sam Browne belt with a holstered side arm. He wore a black beret on his head and on his feet were expensive Gungan-skin boots. Moloch recognised him at once as the Great Leader of the Revolution, Dotti himself. By his side walked a tall, strikingly pretty woman, dressed in a highly decorative but somewhat impractical style. She clearly didn't feel the cold. Still, unlike the other women in the column she seemed to still be taking good care of her appearance, for she was clean and had obviously taken the time to do her hair. They stopped a few yards from where von Zinzer was sitting. He noticed that the girl stood a little to the left and a little behind the Anarchist Leader. He wasn't sure if this was out of respect or she'd been instructed not to stand too close, so as not to tower over him. Moloch stood to greet them. Dotti seemed friendly, almost conciliatory.

“Greetings Comrade! I am Dotti, leader of the People's Militia and this is Sinead, my aide-de-camp. We are fighting for our Freedom and the Freedom of People everywhere. Comrade! Join us and together we will overthrow the oppressive Heterodyne and all like her and usher in the dawn of a new Golden Age in Service of The People.”

The clank that had been guarding von Zinzer, turned slowly towards Dotti, interrupting his speech.

“I... require....maintenance.” it said slowly. To a dedicated mechanic like Moloch it was painful to hear. “I...req... req.... uire.....ire....m..mm..main..ten....ance...ance....ance”.

Dotti turned on the clank angrily. “NO! NO YOU DO NOT! All of these 'regular maintenance' schedules are merely a trick! A means by which the capitalist infrastructure increases unnecessary consumption of materials to boost profits! There is nothing wrong with you! You do not require maintenance, do you understand!?” There was an extended whirring and grinding of gears and relays from inside the clank. Finally there was a decisive clunk and the voicebox ground back into life.

“In....in....struction acc...acc...epted. Maint...enance c...c...cancelled. Next maint...enance due in 262,833 minutes.” As it turned back to him Moloch was able to give it a surreptitious push in the chest, a dark art known to left backs the world over, that caused it to stagger and then, its malfunctioning gyros unable to recover, topple over backwards. It lay on its back, its arms and legs moving feebly like a giant metal beetle. “Error. Unable to stand... Error. Unable to stand. Shutting down to prevent further damage.” There were a series of loud clicks as internal trip switches disengaged and the clank became mercifully silent and still. Moloch was almost sorry for it. Dotti was furious. “More sabotage! Everywhere we are surrounded by the most putrid traitors and vile saboteurs. Did you do this?” he turned on von Zinzer, who gave his best 'honest ref I didn't touch him' look. Dotti remembered why he was talking to him and with an effort brought his temper under control. He resumed his exposition in a more reasonable voice.

“Take a look around you and see the World that we can build together, free from toil and responsibility! We have awoken and we are not going back to sleep! I am not some zombie, working as a slave to this vile civilisation. I despise the pathetic little men who work for the despicable machine with their little lives trammelled by the clock, the dreadful little nine-to-fivers”.

Having been raised on a farm, the concept of nine-to-five had come as a revelation to the young Moloch von Zinzer. Going to work at such a late hour, then stopping work in the middle of the afternoon and not doing anything for the rest of the day and even having some time for yourself had seemed so wonderful, so decadent, that for several months he had felt rather guilty about having to work so little. Of course, at Castle Heterodyne, working hours existed in principle, but, like the farm, there was always some emergency to fill his hours, but the forty hour week still seemed like a marvellous innovation to him and for a while he was puzzled by Dotti's hostility. It finally dawned on him that in fact the People's Militia did not work at all.

In a way it made sense. If you lived in a society where everything was provided for you by the work of other people, why bother to do any work yourself? And if you were forced to do work, game the system or do the work so badly that you wouldn't get asked to do it again. Moloch couldn't think of a good logical counter argument, except that in his bones he knew it was wrong. From his time on the farm, from his time in Mechanicsburg, hell, even when he was a mechanic on the Vienna 707, work was what you did. You made a contribution and you pulled your weight and you expected everyone else to do the same. He really didn't understand how anyone could sit back and rely on the hard work of others around them and still retain any modicum of self-respect. What really angered him was that not only was Dotti quite prepared to let others carry him through life, he obviously despised the people stupid enough to work for a living who were doing all the heavy lifting to carry him. Moloch decided he really didn't like this man. At all. And Moloch von Zinzer wasn't a man who often took a dislike to people. In his line of work, survival depended on being friends with everyone around you, be they Spark, minion or sane. Meanwhile, Dotti was still expounding his vision of paradise.

“Imagine a World with no possessions! No need for greed or hunger! No Sparks to kill or die for! A Brotherhood of Man!”

“And women too of course.” Moloch couldn't stop himself.

“What! Well, of course! We of the People's Militia have thrown away all the old inhibitions! Women are no longer stifled by your outdated morality. Although far too many have yet to achieve full political consciousness and become truly liberated! Now women are allowed complete freedom! ”

'Unless they want to say no.' thought Moloch, thinking of the girl chopping carrots, but wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

“I am the Liberator of the People! None shall ever have to bow their knee or obey an order ever again! No-one will be in the appalling situation where they have to sacrifice their ease and comfort because they are forced to contribute to society! Everyone will have complete freedom to do what they want and believe what they want! And if anyone disagrees with me, I will order them to be shot! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!” His eyes refocused as he remembered that von Zinzer existed.

“What I do not understand is why the People of Mechanicsburg have not revolted against their oppressors and opened its gates to us, their Liberators, the same way that all the other oppressed People have done. It's some kind of mind control isn't it? Some corrupt Spark-created Abomination of Science to keep the People crushed beneath the heel of the ruling class.” An idea began to form at the back of von Zinzer's mind.

“Well, er actually, it's a bit simpler than that.” he told the anarchist leader. You see, all the other Castles you've conquered... er … I mean liberated, have been quite small, so the People have heard your Glorious Message of Freedom and have immediately united to overthrow their masters. But Mechanicsburg is a big city, with walls... and... yes that's it, The Heterodyne controls all the sources of information, so no-one knows you have come to liberate them. See, they think you're another invading army come to conquer them so they've closed the gates and got ready for a siege, because that's what they have always done. Of course, if they knew that you had actually come to liberate them from oppression and offer them a life of free love without responsibility, well of course they would immediately rise up and open the gates to you!” Moloch was lying through his teeth and he knew it. Mechanicsburg hadn't got its name for nothing. Centuries of living under the rule of The Heterodyne had meant that those not inclined to hard work had an extremely low life expectancy. Mechaniacs had also learned that hard work brought its own rewards, both personal and in the longer term as a result of a strong and prosperous city. Anyway, there was something so satisfying about building a machine and thinking 'I did that', even if it was a machine for reducing the Castle of a rival Spark to a pile of slowly cooling slag.

“So, tell you what.” Moloch continued. “If I was to 'escape' and make it back to Mechanicsburg, I could spread the word of the Glorious Liberation and that you aren't really here to invade. The People will rebel and in a couple of days you'll be able to walk into the City without a shot being fired.” He paused hopefully.

“Apart from all the shots we will fire as we line up the vile Exploiters of the People up against the wall and shoot them.” Dotti enthused. “In order to rebuild society it will be necessary to exterminate the entire useless class of the bourgeois like the vermin they are. I hope the minions of Mechanicsburg will have the strength of purpose to join us in our great endeavour.”

“Oh don't worry about that.” Moloch assured him. “My minions have got plenty of willpower. You'll not need to worry about them not getting behind the cause.” He paused because Dotti had suddenly turned to stare at him.

“Your minions?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

“No, absolutely not. How many times must I tell people I am not the Head Minion...?” The panic was starting to rise in Moloch's voice.

“But Yes! YES!! It is you.” screeched Dotti, working himself up into a paroxysm of rage. “I thought I recognised you! You are an Oppressor of the Masses, even if you do have a beard! You are Moloch von Zinzer, the man who repaired Castle Heterodyne, the right hand minion of The Heterodyne, the lackey who does her evil bidding to grind the faces of the People into the dirt! You are an Enemy of the People! Sinead, rouse the men! Arrange a firing squad to put this vile oppressor up against the wall and shoot him this instant!”

Several of the People's Militia were already getting to the feet to see what their Glorious Leader was making such a fuss about, hoping that death would brighten an otherwise dull afternoon. About a dozen came over, stopping to select a rifle each from one of the piles of small arms.

As they were on the flat grassy plain in front of Mechanicsburg, there was no convenient wall to put von Zinzer up against to shoot him, which led to a heated argument. Some of the firing squad seemed to think that the wall was a necessary part of putting a class enemy up against the wall and shooting him whereas others claimed that this was bourgeois reactionary thinking and that the wall was a purely abstract concept and the important part was the shooting. While they argued, Sinead waited with Moloch, looking slightly embarrassed. She gave a small shrug as if to say, ' Sorry about this, but you know how it is'.

Finally, the anarchists reached a compromise and decided to put Moloch up against the side of a nearby siege clank that had been 'sabotaged by traitors'. Walking towards the giant wreck Moloch could see that its engines had seized, probably because no-one had topped up the lubricants since it had been 'liberated'. They stood him against the side of the dead machine and lined up in front of him. He wasn't offered the traditional blindfold, cigarette or last request, which Moloch thought rather rude. Just because you are going to kill a man there is no reason not to be polite. He looked at the twelve muzzles pointing at him. He knew they were all in bad repair, but surely they couldn't all pull to the right or misfire. 'This is it,' he thought, 'I'm going to die.' Suddenly, the terrible realisation flashed through Moloch von Zinzer's mind that he had forgotten to replace the lens cap on the Special Camera in the _Sturzzeug_ and that dust would get onto those wonderful optics that had taken 5 years to grind.

Dotti crowed in triumph. “Another stinking Enemy of the People receives the Justice of the Proletariat! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” He turned to the firing squad.

“AIM.....!!”

_Is this finally the end for Moloch von Zinzer? Will the People of Mechanicsburg rise up against their Oppressors? Does anyone have a lens cloth to clean the Special Camera? Don't miss the next exciting episode of Moloch von Zinzer and the Revolting Minions!_


	2. The Jägerkin and the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Moloch von Zinzer's enemies have failed to kill him. Now all he has to do is survive his friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Although I haven't tagged this as containing graphic violence, a couple of people do meet violent death in this chapter, so it has a teenager and up tag. If anyone thinks it needs a graphic violence warning, let me know._

Before Dotti could give the order to fire, there were a series of bright flashes all along the walls of Mechanicsburg, followed a few seconds later by heavy dull thuds, quite quiet but with a deep vibration that indicated a very loud sound from very far away. It was a sound that von Zinzer had heard many times before, but always from behind the safety of Mechanicsburg's walls. The firing squad looked up in puzzlement, their victim temporarily forgotten. They didn't realise what the sounds or the flashes from the walls meant until the first screaming artillery shells began to fall. They dropped their weapons and ran. Dotti followed them towards the centre of the camp shouting orders, although no-one seemed to be taking any notice. The assault from Mechanicsburg had begun.

Many years previously, before he found his true calling as a minion (please don't tell him I said that; he gets upset), von Zinzer had been a soldier in the army of Duke D'Omas. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he could still remember basic training when his drill sergeant instructed him on what to do in an artillery barrage.

“Basically lads, the blast from a shell goes up and out. If you stand there like a yokel gawking at a Heterodyne Show, then it's going to blow your stupid head off. On the other hand, if you lie flat on the ground as though you were trained soldiers, then the blast will pass over your head and you'll be perfectly safe. Unless you take a direct hit of course, in which case we'll be posting you home to Momma in a matchbox.” As the shells rained down, von Zinzer dived to the ground with his hands over his head, trying to keep himself as flat as possible and use the wrecked siege clank as cover. It gave him no pleasure at all to see that the men and women of the People's Militia had not received any basic training and many of them were standing around like yokels gawking at a Heterodyne Show. Actually to give them their due, they weren't all standing still. Some of them were running in circles, screaming and shouting. It didn't help.

At least the Mechanicsburg gunners weren't using cluster munitions, where each shell separated into lots of smaller bomblets that were much more effective against people. Von Zinzer recalled that the Jägers had had them banned; they said it was cheating. These shells were the good old-fashioned single large piece of fast-moving high explosive, and were being aimed, with considerable effectiveness, at the larger obvious targets, the battle clanks and engines of war belonging to the People's Militia. Not ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, the gunners had already reduced the line of stompers to a pile of burning wreckage. Von Zinzer sighed. That was going to take a lot of clearing up when all this was over.

Everyone experiences a strange range of emotions when they are under artillery fire. There is, of course the helpless terror of knowing that you could die at any moment and there is absolutely nothing that you can do to prevent it. Second, every time a shell lands, there is the feeling of relief that it didn't land on you, and third, the feeling of guilt at feeling relief that the shell landed on one of your comrades and not you. Mostly, von Zinzer was feeling the helpless terror, and it should be said that when he saw a blast throw an anarchist spinning twenty feet into the air, ripping off the man’s arms and legs, he felt absolutely no sense of guilt whatsoever. It was the swine who had assaulted the girl chopping up the carrots.

Looking round he noticed Sinead standing close by with her hand crammed into her open mouth staring in wide-eyed panic at the destruction all around her. There is a popular song in the taverns of Mechanicsburg with a line that runs 'When a man's afraid a beautiful maid is a cheering sight to see'. Despite everything that happened to him in the last hour, he realised he really didn't want this girl to die. He leaped up, and keeping as low as possible, hit her with a flying tackle that knocked them both to the ground. They clung to each other in terror, while he held her head close against his body and rolled on top of her to protect her from the shrapnel flying overhead. He thought she was probably screaming, but he couldn't hear over the din of exploding shells. Ten seconds later the wrecked engine where von Zinzer had been lying received a direct hit. He felt the hot blast scorching his legs and the soles of his feet. If he had not moved both he and Sinead would have been dead.

Abruptly the barrage ceased. Von Zinzer shook his head to clear the dust from his eyes and the ringing sound from his ears. When he looked down at Sinead she was smiling up at him. Rather than letting him go, she tightened her embrace.

“You saved my life” she breathed into his ear. He had a familiar horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'Oh no, not again.' he thought.

Then in the distance they heard as if an army muttered; and the muttering grew to a grumbling; and the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; and out of their burrows the Jägers came tumbling! To the shocked survivors the beating of drums sounded almost as loud as the artillery bombardment and with it came the dreaded chant that had brought fear to the enemies of the House of Heterodyne for three hundred years:

“VE HUNT! VE HUNT!”

Dotti appeared, shouting encouragement and orders, trying to get the surviving People's Militia armed and into a defensive line to meet the attack. Immediately arguments broke out. Some of the anarchists wanted to charge the attackers, others wanted to take up defensive positions and others wanted to fall back. Most of them just seemed to disagree with what anyone else suggested. All of them were frantically searching for a weapon amid the confusion left by the barrage. The few surviving battle clanks were confused and directionless, ineffectual without orders and a chain of command.

In the distance, von Zinzer could see the Jägers advancing, using the ground cover and the smoke from the burning machines to maximum effect, no doubt puzzled by the lack of any fire from the People's Militia's positions. He had never liked or trusted the Jägers, but he had to admit that when you were in the middle of a battlefield it felt really good to have them on your side.

Suddenly Dotti leapt onto a wrecked engine of war and harangued his followers.

“Comrades. We are the People's Militia! We have not been turned into automatons by the military industrial machine! We are independent, free-thinking human beings and that is why we will always triumph over any trained army, even one as skilled, ruthless and savage as the Jägermonsters.”

“The creatures about to attack us are mere mindless zombies. Abominations of hate and malice who have murdered their way across Europe for centuries. But they cannot hope to defeat the Will of the People supported by our belief in a better World and the knowledge that we have Truth on our side. There may be some of you who feel that you cannot face these ravening monsters and you may leave the battlefield without shame, but I know that you are all true Heroes of the Revolution and that The People, United, Can Never Be Defeated.”

As one, the People's Militia dropped their weapons and ran for it, leaving Dotti, von Zinzer and Sinead alone. 'Always been a City fan, myself' said von Zinzer to himself. Dotti looked at the retreating dust cloud in disbelief. Shaking with rage he ran over to the couple, still lying on the ground arm in arm, and dragged Sinead to her feet by her hair. He pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at von Zinzer.

“You at least will face The Justice of the People.” he snarled. With a familiar feeling of rising panic, von Zinzer saw that the weapon was a precision-made miniature death ray in excellent condition, with a functional targeting system that was projecting a green cross onto his chest exactly over his heart. Whatever Dotti preached about common ownership, he had clearly kept the personal side-arm of a defeated spark for his own use. There was no way he was going to miss. As his finger tightened on the trigger, Sinead suddenly grabbed his arm and deflected his aim. The blast from the death ray flashed above von Zinzer's head and hit some object behind him with a metallic zap and a tinkle of breaking glass. Dotti struck the girl across the mouth with his weapon.

“Traitor!” he screamed. “Betrayer of the Proletariat.” He turned and aimed his weapon at her, but as he fired von Zinzer came up behind him and tried to wrestle him to the ground. The shots aimed at Sinead whizzed harmlessly wide as she ran off screaming into the smoke. As the two men struggled, von Zinzer was elbowed in the ribs, just where he'd taken the blow when the _Sturzzeug_ had crashed, causing him to double up in agony.

With a smile Dotti walked ten paces away from Von Zinzer to prevent any more bourgeois grappling interfering with The Justice of the People and levelled the death ray again. “Give me Liberty or Give me Death!” he snarled. “Hokay Sveethot!” said a friendly voice behind him. Dotti looked down in puzzlement at a large, serrated blade that had suddenly sprouted from his chest. The blade rotated; he dropped his gun, vomited a large quantity of blood over his fashionable jacket; and died. The blade withdrew with an unpleasant sucking sound and the body of the anarchist dictator collapsed to the ground with a petulant sigh, revealing the grinning face of a Jäger standing behind him holding a bloody _batna_ , a Spark-enhanced sword unique to Mechanicsburg.

“Dibs on his boots” said the Jäger happily. It seemed a reasonable request. Not even a Jäger would be seen dead in that beret. Several other monstrous figures loomed out of the smoke from the burning clanks. With a sigh of relief, von Zinzer stood up and then froze in horror as the Jägers rushed at him, screaming. The nearest grabbed him round his neck and did his best to twist his head off.

“Agh! Wait! Wait!” he squealed in fear. “I'm not one of the rebels! I'm Moloch von Zinzer! I work for Agatha! For Lady Heterodyne! I'm from Mechanicsburg!”

The Jäger stopped in mid twist.

“Oh really?” he asked sceptically as his comrades gathered round. One of them bent down to examine von Zinzer, whose face was starting to turn a shade of deep purple.

“Vot, hyu rekon den Cezar?” the Jäger holding von Zinzer in the head lock asked.

“Oh ja Volfram, hy knows diz guy.” Cezar told him “dot is definitely Herr von Zinzer. He iz de Mistress' chief Minion.”

“For the last time I am not...” protested von Zinzer out of sheer force of habit, then realised this was quite definitely not a good time to start arguing about his job title.

“Hokay” said Wolfram. “Zo, best if hy dun tvist his hed off den?” He released von Zinzer who sank to his knees, gasping with relief.

“Dem right, Hif diz guy iz de Mistress' Head Minion und he haz choined vit all dese revoltink pipple, den tvistink hiz hed off iz far too goot vor heem. Ve iz goink to keel him a lot slower und more painful dan dot. Hokay, hyu two grab hiz arms und hy’ll get out de leedle knifes. Dey alvays sed dis guy has plenty of guts. Let’s find out if dots true!”

“NO! WAIT!” von Zinzer screamed as he was held fast by two of the Jägers while Cezar produced a Jäger army knife from his pocket, one of the larger models, with 15 different torture implements and a tool for getting stones out of his hooves. With a grin the Jäger unfolded one of the spikier blades and moved towards the pinioned minion, but before he could begin he was interrupted by another voice shouting across the battlefield.

“Hoy! Vot is hyu guys doink? Dun hyu know dot dere iz a var on!?” Striding towards them came a familiar green skinned figure with goggles, yellow glowing eyes, pointy teeth, a plumed peak cap and a permanent two day growth of stubble.

“Hoy Dimo, ve caught Herr von Zinzer here. He vas beink revoltink agen de Heterodyne, so ve iz goink to see how many ov hiz inside bits ve can tok out before he croaks.”

“Hyu Idiots.” yelled Colonel Dimo. “Herr von Zinzer iz not revoltink! He iz shot down in dot _Sturzzeug_ over dere, fightink vor de Heterodyne, und de Mistress vants to know vot is happenink vit her fancy camera, right now. So let heem go und get after dose revoltink guys. Unless mebbe hyu already gots plans vor dis effenink?”

The Jägers stood in a line and fidgeted uncomfortably, like naughty boys caught in the act. Dimo gave them his best angry school mistress glare. “Ja, ve go hunt” mumbled Cezar and he and his comrades turned and ran after the fleeing anarchists.

“Zo, hyu hokay sveethot?” Dimo asked pleasantly, hauling von Zinzer to his feet by his collar and making a half-hearted attempt to brush the dust from his flying coat. “Sorry 'bout dot. Ve vos hopink vor a bit better fight hy know.”

“No worries.” replied von Zinzer, still fighting for breath while flexing his neck, slightly worried by the clicks and grinding sounds it made, which he was sure had not been there this morning.

“Hy vasn't choking bout dot camera hyu knows.” Dimo told him. “The Mistress vants it back az soon as iz convenient. Dot means right now, only polite like.” Von Zinzer looked around and saw the wreck of the _Sturzzeug_ not too far away. By a miracle it had not suffered any further damage during the artillery barrage. Probably the gunners had received strict instructions not to hit it because of the Special Camera. Still rubbing his neck, he trudged over towards it. As he passed a pile of mangled metal and wood that a short time before had been some sort of walking gunboat a small shape sprang on to him from the top of the wreck. He screamed in terror as the momentum of his assailant bore him to the ground. Desperately he blocked a row of sharp teeth with his arm before they ripped his throat out, the heavy leather of his flying coat protecting him from serious harm. Suddenly there was a startled yelp and his attacker seemed to fly effortlessly upwards away from him, taking with it a considerable chunk of sleeve still locked in those formidable jaws. Von Zinzer sat up quickly, ready to meet another assault. In front of him he saw that he had been rescued by Ognian and Maxim who had dragged off his attacker, the small cloaked construct that had so impressed him with its repair skills. Ognian bore the creature to the ground while Maxim flourished his rapier for the coup de grace. Dimo strolled over to join his two brothers in arms and see what the fuss was all about.

“Hey, don't kill it.” von Zinzer shouted. The two Jägers looked at him quizzically but released their prisoner, who cowered on the ground. He walked over to the construct and bent down to talk to it.

“Hey now, why are you are attacking me? After the way you were treated by those anarchists, you don't owe them any loyalty. Now they've gone and abandoned you. Surrender and you won't be hurt.” He chose to ignore the Jägers disapproving, uncomprehending looks. “I saw you working on the clanks. That was some pretty impressive work you did there. We can always use a good technician in Mechanicsburg. We'll treat you well if you're willing to be part of our team. Think you could work for the Heterodyne?”

The monster whimpered, whether in pain or fear it was difficult to tell. When it spoke, its voice was surprisingly soft.

“You should kill me. I betrayed my Master once before, by not dying with the rest of my comrades. Now I have been bad and betrayed my Masters again by not pleasing them or serving them as I should. I have been rejected by the pack! What place do I have in the World? There is no place where I belong and no use that I can be to anyone! What value does my life have without that? I am a monster! There is no-one who will look on me without fear and revulsion! Just kill me and end my worthless life!”

“Monster!? Not belong!? This is Mechanicsburg! Look around you!” Von Zinzer indicated the three Jägers. “Trust me. You are a good mechanic and you will fit in here just fine. All you have to do is serve her royal Sparkiness and work hard. Think you can do that?”

“Hard work and loyalty I understand. Hard work and loyalty were what I was created for.”

“Sounds to me you just found your new job then. I should mention that the ability to run very fast and good fire resistance are also often very useful. Now, take off that cloak and let's see what you look like.”

“No, I am an abomination, a monster, a thing that should not walk the earth.”

“Hoy, hyu’ll definitely be right at home here den.” Ognian laughed. “Letz haff a look.” and with a Jäger's typical contempt for debate whipped the cloak from the crouching figure. Despite his assurances, von Zinzer had his eyes half closed just in case. He had never understood how merely looking at a creature, no matter how hideous, could make a man want to pluck his own eyes out so he could be sure never to see it again, but working for Agatha Heterodyne had taught him to keep an open mind. When they saw what was beneath the cloak the three Jägers raised their hands above their heads and shouted together in delight.

“DOGGY!”

The construct was a wolf-human hybrid, dressed in a dirty and ragged yellow _Arbeitsanzug_ overall. It cringed and tried to hide itself from the gaze of the three Jägers and the human.

“See?” it whimpered “I am a monster not fit to be gazed upon.” Moloch grinned and offered his hand to the crouching wolf-man – no wolf-woman he corrected himself. At least that explained the soft voice.

“Monster? Nah. By Mechanicsburg standard you hardly qualify. Trust me, no-one will bat an eyelid at your appearance. Hell, they'll take a pride in not noticing. Welcome to the service of The Heterodyne. I'm Moloch von Zinzer. What's your name?”

The woman slowly stood up on her double-jointed wolf's legs, pushing up her goggles to reveal large, sad, amber eyes. Uncertainly, the big bushy tail poking from the back of her _Arbeitsanzug_ , which beneath the cloak had given her such a distorted appearance, began to wag.

“Hello Moloch. I'm Florence.” She took off her leather gauntlets and they shook hands. Real hands covered in fur, he noticed, not paws or claws.

“Look, there's a disabled von Schweinsteiger battle clank over there” he told her. I think it's only shut down because it needs a bit of maintenance. Lady Heterodyne always likes a new toy and it would be a shame to let this one rust; it's good work. As your first job, go and see if you can get it on its feet and back to the mech’ hangars in Mechanicsburg so you can repair it properly.” The wagging tail tripled in speed. Florence was almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“Can I? Can I really?” Von Zinzer recoiled from the array of enormous sharp teeth that were unexpectedly bared in front of him. Florence covered her mouth and looked at him in chagrin. “Sorry, too many teeth. I've got to remember not to show so many teeth when I smile.” Then, with a delighted yip, she ran off to where the battle clank that had been guarding von Zinzer still lay. The three Jägers looked after her with broad appreciative grins. “Wow” said Maxim, “will you look at the tool belt on her?” Dimo turned to von Zinzer.

“Dun vurry. Ve'll make shure hyur leedle doggy gets home safe. Now, hyu goink to get dot camera back to de Mistress or not?”

With a sigh, von Zinzer dragged his bruised and beaten body across to the wreckage of the He 46. The Special Camera was still inside and its case, a cube with sides of about 70cm, looked intact. Swiftly, he closed the protective shutters so no more dust and dirt would get on to the lenses that had taken five years to grind, and screwed down a series of clamps that locked down the internal mechanisms ready for transport. He shut off the power, impressed that it was still active, disconnected the feeds and then carefully unscrewed the camera from its mount. It wasn't too heavy, but rather unwieldy and without a good carrying handle. It had been designed to be moved short distances across a hangar to the Steurzzeug and back, not carried several miles across a churned up battlefield by an exhausted and tattered minion. The Boyz were out of sight, no doubt supervising the latest minion to join the ranks of the Heterodyne. With a sigh, he lifted the camera and set off back to the Mechanicsburg.

As von Zinzer walked, the camera slowly got heavier. By the time he reached the city gate and entered Mechanicsburg the camera felt so heavy it was all he could do to lift it. He stumbled through streets that were almost deserted; everyone was on the walls watching the show. Then he reached the causeway stretching up to Castle Heterodyne. It felt steeper than it had ever done as he dragged his aching bones and the Special Camera up to the top. When he finally reached the castle gate it never occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever been grateful to enter. The two human guards on duty recognised him and waved him through into the main entrance hall.

“Ah, Herr von Zinzer, welcome home.” the Castle greeted him. "The Mistress is at the top of the Tower of Green Porcelain. I'm afraid it's quite a long and steep climb.”

Von Zinzer had heard that in the days of the Jägerdraft one of the tests for candidates had been a long route march with full weapons in the dark in bad weather to a checkpoint high in the mountains where you would rendezvous with a dirigible to take you home. However when you got there, all you found was a smug little Sergeant Major with a clipboard, who informed you that in fact the rendezvous point for the dirigible had been changed and you still had to get another three miles up the mountain and by the way the dirigible was only going to wait another half an hour. Now the point of the test was not to see whether you had the endurance or fortitude for long marches – that was taken as given. It was a test of character. If you made any negative comment, even a mild expletive, at the prospect of more exertion just when you thought you could relax then you failed; lack of immoral fibre they called it.

Moloch Von Zinzer failed the test for the Jägerdraft.

After he had finished cursing the Castle was able to continue. “I have already informed the Mistress that you will be joining her momentarily, so please don't let me delay you any longer.” Even in his exhausted state, von Zinzer couldn't let that go.

“You mean in a moment. As in very soon. 'Momentarily' in that context is a corruption of the language.”

“No, I meant 'momentarily'. I am expecting you to drop dead of exhaustion soon after you reach the top, so you won't be there for very long at all really.”

Von Zinzer scowled at the ceiling and gave an Ognian Salute in the direction of the main sensor cluster. Then he picked up the camera again and began the long climb up to the top of the Tower of Green Porcelain. After an indeterminate period of blurry agony, he reached the high platform where Agatha and General Gkika were reviewing the battlefield.

“Why Herr von Zinzer. Can you manage that?” General Gkika sounded concerned. “You should have said, we could have given you a hand.”

“Yeah, right.” muttered von Zinzer under his breath.

“Von Zinzer!” Agatha exclaimed, with real concern in her voice. “I was so worried when I saw the _Sturzzeug_ go down. Is the Special Camera damaged at all?”

“I'm fine, thanks for asking.” Von Zinzer replied.

“You do know that the lenses took five years to grind don't you?” she said as she snatched the box from him.

“No, no major injuries. Giraffe might be a bit sore though.” he told her. Agatha ignored the blatant call-out to another great web comic and carried the Special Camera over to a workbench. As she did so von Zinzer's heart sank as he saw, for the first time, the small hole burned through the case and remembered the sound of breaking glass when Sinead had deflected Dotti's shot. As Agatha released the locking clamps and opened up the case to inspect the optics, the pieces of the broken lenses, no longer held in place, tumbled to the ground and shattered across the flag stones like crushed ice.

“You broke my Special Camera.” said Agatha in a small voice.

“Sorry.” replied von Zinzer. With a scream of rage, Agatha picked up the camera case and smashed it over his head. He staggered, blinked and left the room with rapid but shaky steps before The Heterodyne could find a more effective weapon. It turned out the Castle had been right after all. He had arrived momentarily.

\----------------------------*

By the time von Zinzer made it all the way back to the minion's quarters, he was so tired he was having difficulty thinking, although at least the double vision was starting to fade. Pushing open the door of the common room, he was relieved to find it was empty except for Fraulein Snaug. He really didn't feel up to lengthy explanations to a large group. Still he was glad that Snaug was there. With a bit of luck she could be counted on for a little sympathy and if he was really fortunate perhaps she would bring him a nice cup of tea. She didn't seem pleased to see him, but was scowling at one of the large projection screens set up for the minions' entertainment and education.

“You will never guess what a day I've had.” he told her.

“Oh, I am perfectly aware of the day you've had.” Snaug did not sound at all sympathetic. “I tapped into the feed of the _Sturzzeug_ camera to see how you were getting on”. Her tone of voice set off alarm bells learnt by painful experience in von Zinzer's head. Snaug swivelled her view screen around to show a picture in full colour and high definition of von Zinzer lying on top of Sinead immediately after the bombardment, the couple apparently locked together in a passionate embrace. Even as part of his mind started to panic, the mechanic in his soul was really impressed by the detail and colour depth of the picture. That camera had really been something special.

“Look, I can explain...” he began and then turned and ran as Snaug drew a small but powerful pistol, aimed and pulled the trigger. The first shot whistled through the space where his head had been half a second before and blew a perfect 2 cm diameter hole in the solid oak door. By the second shot von Zinzer was already out of the room and sprinting at top speed down the corridor fuelled by a combination of fear and adrenaline.

\---------------------------*

That night, Professor Getwin Mittelmind strolled out onto a high deserted balcony on one of the towers of Castle Heterodyne, carrying a plate of pies, a block of cheese, a jug of ale and two steins on a tray. Below him the traditional Mechanicsburg victory party was in full swing. The Professor put down his supper on a large table covered in a white table cloth that reached to the ground, filled the two steins with the reknowned Mechanicsburg ale 'Old Sparky Hen' from the jug and sat down in the comfortable chair to watch the moon rise.

“All in all a successful day.” he remarked to no-one in particular. “I believe that at first Lady Heterodyne was quite concerned this new philosophy might actually inspire a minions' revolt here in Mechanicsburg, but she should have known we are better than that. I could have told her that she had nothing to fear. In the final analysis, for all its odd ideas of equality, anarchism attracts the lazy, the selfish and the greedy, who want all the benefits of others' hard work without having to bear any responsibility or make a contribution themselves. They soon outnumber and subvert any true idealists. Such people may destroy, but they will never build and finally they will always be overcome by those with energy and self-motivation. As I may have mentioned already, the study of the social sciences is much neglected.” He took a sip of beer. “In the end it's been quite an easy victory. The anarchists ran as soon as they were confronted by a determined assault by experienced troops backed by an artillery barrage. I think the Jägermonstern were quite disappointed. Most of them never even got into close combat with the People's Militia. The minion's revolution is well and truly over.”

He paused to admire the gibbous moon rising from behind the mountains.

“Lady Heterodyne has calmed down by the way. She was quite apologetic. I've had a quiet word with Fraulein Snaug and she is back in her normal state of mind.” He reflected for a moment. “Well, perhaps in her usual state of mind would be more accurate. All an amusing misunderstanding. It really is perfectly safe to come out you know.”

“Thanks, but I think I'll just stay here for now, if it's all the same to you.” replied von Zinzer from his hiding place beneath the table.

“Perhaps that is prudent under the circumstances” replied Mittelmind. “I brought some beer and cheese and some good meat pies. No bugs or snails.”

A pair of shaking hands appeared from beneath the tablecloth and took the offered stein and plate of food.

“You know, if you are traumatised by all this I could offer you a mind-wipe. Painless, special discount...”

“No thank you!”

“Really? It works wonders for Fraulein Snaug whenever she....”

“NO!! Thank you!”

“Fine.” continued the Professor with a dismissive gesture, “but I think you really are rather over-reacting to all this. It's been quite an exciting day, but in the end it's all worked out rather well, hasn't it?”

“Over-reacting?! Rather well?!” squeaked an indignant von Zinzer, spraying pie crust over the inside of his tablecloth refuge. “Today, everyone, everyone has tried to kill me. Er, present company excepted.” he added uncertainly, suddenly wondering what Mittelmind might have added to the pie. Rumour had it he was on the lookout for experimental subjects again.

“Yes and how are you this evening?”

“How am I? I'm... I'm... er... well, my ribs are a bit sore from where I got thrown around in the Steurzzeug, I've got a cut on my head and an enormous bruise from when I got clubbed by an anarchist rifle, minor burns from my soles to my shins from that artillery shell and a crick in my neck where the Jäger nearly twisted my head off. I've got mild nausea from having to listen to all Dotti's ranting, minor lacerations on my forearm where the wolf tried to bite me, ringing in my ears from the damned artillery barrage, concussion from having a camera broken over my head and I think Snaug's singed off one my eyebrows again.”

“Exactly.” replied Mittelmind with satisfaction. “Today everyone, from an army of anarchists to the Lady herself has tried to kill you. And here you are, still alive, with no more than a few cuts and bruises. Amazing! Really, what do you have to worry about?”

He grinned at von Zinzer's disgusted snort and refilled the empty stein that had been pushed out from beneath the tablecloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _All Girl Genius characters copyright Studio Foglio_
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> _Florence based on Florence Ambrose from Freefall, copyright Mark Stanley_
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> _The line about the giraffe ~~stolen from~~ inspired by [Widdershins](http://www.widdershinscomic.com/wdshn/november-7th-2012-kickstarter-at-89/). by Kate Ashwin_


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